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Summertime Page 2


  * * *

  Fanny's voice intruded upon the memory, shattering it as if it existed on flimsy celluloid. Eugenia unconsciously clenched her teeth.

  "Marty? Yeah, it's me. She's awake and she's calling for you. I don't know . . . . No, no, she's fine. Healthy as a horse. I said, she's fine! Look, Marty, I'm just giving you the damn message, okay?"

  Fanny's whine faded from Eugenia's hearing and she unclenched her teeth.

  "I'm telling you, Ethel, you take that fur coat right back to the store!"

  "I'll do no such thing! Why, Lucy told me that it looked—"

  "Lucy! Lucy's crazy! You listen to me, Ethel. You take back that coat or you'll be going to that wedding with your screwball friend instead of with me!"

  "Fred! How dare you talk that way about my best friend!" Laughter, much laughter. Eugenia smiled, knowing that Lucy would soon get involved. Then all heck would break loose.

  "Look, I don't care what you do or when you get back. How long till the end of the game? Alright, I'll tell her something. I don't know what. Look, don't worry about it. You sit and finish your precious beer, I'll be fine!" The telephone receiver slammed hard into its plastic cradle.

  Soon Eugenia heard the sound of Fanny's heels clicking neatly on the linoleum tiles as she approached the bedroom. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

  Fanny entered the room and strode directly to Eugenia's bedside. "Mother Adams? Mother Adams?" Fanny leaned in close, towering over Eugenia. Eugenia tried not to gag on the cloying scent of Chanel making breathing nearly impossible.

  She coughed and opened her eyes, forced to stare into Fanny's emaciated, sun-wrinkled face. Her bulbous nose was in direct competition with her coal black eyes for attention. Lifeless, loveless. They absorbed all and revealed nothing. If it was true that the eyes were a mirror of the soul . . . . Eugenia shivered.

  Fanny smiled at her, flashing bright white dentures that were too long in the front, creating a buck-toothed grin that contrasted sharply with her fashionable hairstyle, her dyed-blond hair tucked behind oversized ears making the woman's long face even longer and less attractive than it actually was.

  "Are you cold Mother Adams?" Fanny asked, pulling another layer of sheets over Eugenia's body.

  "Where's Martin?" Eugenia asked feebly.

  Fanny replied, still smiling her big toothy smile, "Oh, you know Marty. He's out right now. He went to get you a few groceries. You know," she began casually, looking down at her glossy ruby-red fingernails, "that's probably the reason why you had that spell. You don't eat well enough, living on your own and all."

  Eugenia inhaled deeply and then rolled away from Fanny. Her daughter-in-law sighed and then walked over to the other side of the bed, blocking Eugenia's view of the big willow tree outside the window.

  Fanny lit a cigarette and Eugenia watched the thin wisps of smoke float over the bed and across the room. Eugenia coughed, but she was too weak to turn away.

  "You don't mind if I smoke, do you, Mother Adams? You know," she continued, "you should really think about moving into that new retirement home in town. Whispering Willows. Nice name, huh? Did Marty tell you that we went to look at a room over there yesterday?" Fanny stared down at Eugenia, her pencil-thin eyebrows raised as she waited for a response.

  "Well, we went there, yesterday," she continued. "It was Marty's idea, you know. And it was just wonderful! If you moved there, at Whispering Willows, you wouldn't have to worry about cleaning this big old house any more or walking up and down those nasty stairs."

  In the silence, Eugenia struggled for breath, sounding as raspy going in as it did coming out. She closed her eyes and they looked like two lifeless black slits cut harshly into an unbaked pie crust.

  "God, death is ugly," Fanny whispered, and turned to face the sunshine. She seemed content to welcome the rays, until she turned away and complained about wrinkles. "I hate the sun," she grumbled.

  A minute later Fanny left the room, trailing sinewy strands of smoke down the hallway and wondering aloud what colour carpeting she might put throughout the house.